Tactical General: Jiro
by Jiro
Summary: This story is based on the Chronicles of the Sword mode of Soul Calibur III. It depicts the journey of a young man who dreames of becoming a great tactical general of the Grandall Empire.
1. Prologue

**Hello. This is my first Soul Calibur fanfic. It is based on the SCIII Chronicles of the Sword mode but I integrated some of my own characters from an original story I'm writing called The Guardians of Panthea. After each chapter that includes an original character, I'll supply directions on how to make them if you want to see what they really look like. I don't own the actual characters the mode provides you with such as Abelia, Girardot, or anyone like that but the original characters are mine and I'd appreciate it if you got permission if you wanted to use them for another story.**

**This is the prologue. From the third paragraph on, it will be told by the Fates. If you don't know about Greek Mythology, then let me enlighten you. They are three mythical beings resembling the past, present, and future. Together, they weave the threads of destiny. By weaving them among others they decide the path one will take, the people he'll meet, and the choices he'll make. Where the thread ends is the end of the person's life. They will be referenced often throughout the story as they are the chief deities worshipped by the characters.**

**Enjoy the story and please review.**

**Prologue**

This is another tale of souls and swords.

Once, there existed on a great continent 3 countries: The Grandall Empire, The Kingdom of Dalkia, and The Halteese Republic. The Kingdom of Dalkia and the Halteese Republic waged a great war against one another for countless years. The Grandall Empire stayed out of the conflict, amassing their army quietly. In a time when King Chester, the great tactician and instigator of the war which later became known as the Mantis War, had not yet appeared in the annals of history, the key figure of the war was a mere cadet of the Grandall army...

"Two opposing swords of foreign origin… With no knowledge of their true powers, man worshipped the swords as a symbol of wealth and authority. Nations destroyed each other over the swords, and countless wars have been waged."

"Blind to reason and justice, once again man learns the art of war."

"And in time, he too will learn…"

**Yes it is short…but the chapters will be long I promise. I hope you will enjoy the future chapters as I know you didn't this one.**


	2. The Final Exam

**Here's chapter 1! Well not much to say here except that I own Jiro but that's about it so far. Other of my own characters will come but so far it's just Jiro. There is a surprise for all that care after the chapter. Please read and review…but above all else please enjoy!**

**The Final Exam**

The sun was just rising as the east wind breathed across Jiro's face. The exams were finally over, and he had failed miserably. As he stood there in the plains that were the training grounds, shadows of wooden buildings silhouetted in the light of an infant sun stretched out to flood him in darkness.

It had been his dream to become a tactical general within the ranks of the Grandall army; to shine, as the sun did now, with his brother as one of the best officers in the history of Grandall. Those dreams have been slashed. How could he ever return home a failure; a disgrace to his family, a shame to his brother? A chance, all he needed was a chance to display his prowess in a field of battle. On paper you can only anticipate so much, but on the battle field, being able to see every move, every shift, every formation of his opponent's would allow him to foresee any trick or ploy his adversary would attempt. If he were given just one opportunity, he would make his brother proud. No, he would bring pride to his entire family!

Higher the sun rose, until it completely cleared the mountains separating him from his destination. The shadows slowly crept down his face until his entire visage became washed with Delthan's golden rays. Unable to bear the strenuous light, Jiro squinted his sapphire eyes, practically blurring his vision completely. The wind whipped at his hair, catching the long strands of brown and throwing them back across his cheeks and neck revealing his youthful features. His pitch cloak also caught and flapped backward with a soft cracking impression of a whip. His loose robe and slacks rippled across his chest and legs as the shadows receded farther, allowing the sun's beams to reflect off the white collar of his undershirt in stark contrast to his overlapping robe.

Dropping to his knees, Jiro closed his eyes and hid amongst the quickly withdrawing shadows of the wooden towers. He felt that basking in the warmth of Delthan was not a luxury he was worthy of. In the soft grass he knelt to the point when Delthan, agitated with Jiro's self pity, climbed above the towers, staining the training grounds in its entirety with yellow life. Why…why did the sun persist so? The question racked his brain for a logical answer. None was given though, no solution that satiated his hungry thoughts. He only wished for night; total darkness in which he could hide his mortification and ignominy.

"Jiro?"

Abelia. Though a classmate in studies, a rival during exams. She received the highest score on the last test; all her strategies resulting in nearly perfect outcomes for every artificial situation. Her mind was much sharper, and what's worse, she knew it; and she never missed a chance to prove it. Jiro's instincts, however, served him better. Abelia may reign in the classroom, but Jiro would rule on the battleground. She was all books; she had all the style, but no substance. Substance was worth nothing to trainees though. They had to prove their worth on paper before they were ever given a chance to lead in the training grounds.

"Are you listening?"

Abelia. Yould his memory of her haunt his mind? Would this failure cause an inferiority complex because he could not escape the mental grasp of his superior rival?

"Jiro!"

Jiro's eyes instantly opened causing him to grunt in pain from the temporary blindness the sun caused. He slammed them shut again, confining them to the blackness of his eyelids until his retinas no longer burned. Slowly, he opened them, starring straight into the wide eyes of his friendly foe. Abelia stood before him, a golden aura surrounding her as she blocked the sun, a stern look etched across her face. Jiro looked on lazily, disturbed that her image so easily penetrated the defense of his sub conscience.

"Honestly, pull yourself together!" she commanded, her sharp voice confirming Jiro's woeful suspicion that this was no mere daydream.

Though his mind registered the order, it could not process it, leaving Jiro to sit there defiantly, staring up into the eyes of his oppressor.

"Would you please get up and get ready?"

"What are you talking about?" Jiro asked stupidly, finally finding his voice.

Abelia rolled her eyes and the east wind ceased to blow, her curls falling down back over her ears. Those curls…how he hated those curls. If her entire head consisted of them it wouldn't mean a thing…but those two swirling tresses on either side of her face seemed to irritate him to no end for no feasible reason. "Don't you take anything seriously?"

Now Jiro was mad. She knew he viewed nearly everything critically; he just failed to discern anything of importance from her babbling. He took careful measure not to reveal his annoyance however, refusing to yield a single inch to the likes of her. Instead, he took it upon himself to insult her in turn. "You have those ugly cones dripping down your face and you ask if _I'm_ serious? Those curls can take the seriousness out of war." Stupid. To say the least, a stupid comment and an unnecessary one. Now she knew she'd bothered him.

"Just get ready for the exam," she breathed. "Or would you rather fail this half too?"

Jiro's mind sparked with life. The exams were over, he failed. He was destined to live as a disgrace to his family for all eternity. Poets would write epics about his failure and Abelia's succession. What did she mean? "The exams are over," Jiro replied antagonistically.

"The _written_ exams are over," Abelia corrected. "The _field_ tests are about to begin."

It couldn't be…was it possible? Had Jiro really received the contingency he so richly desired? No. This was Abelia. It must be another gibe meant to insult his intelligence in order for her to maintain superiority. "What are you talking about?" Jiro repeated, desperate to catch her in her own ploy. She rolled her eyes again and revealed a letter signed by General Girardot, Supreme Tactical Commander. Jiro took the note impassively from her hand and examined its contents. It was unmistakably General Griardot's hand writing; hardly legible with random splotches of ink sprawled around the paper. In it was displayed Abelia's score on the exam as well as a congratulation by Girardot himself.

Jiro scoffed, thrusting the letter back into Abelia's hands. "If you intended to brag, you could have just announced your score_ again_," Jiro complained.

"Did you read the rest?" Abelia asked despondently, dropping the letter in allowance for it to descend. Jiro snatched the paper, causing it to crumple in his fist.

"There better be a point to this," Jiro warned. He didn't expect a trick, but he wouldn't subscribe to the belief that the Fates were merciful either. Smoothing out the parchment, Jiro continued to read the sloppy chicken scratch Girardot excused for writing.

The last paragraph read: "The exam you took was, actually, only half of your final test, however. Tomorrow begins the field exam. Durring this time, you and your classmates will participate in mock battles on the training grounds. The amount of forces, as well as the number of strongholds, under your control will be directly proportionate to your score on the written exam. Conditions for winning, along with losing, will be discussed tomorrow. Bring you weapons as your wit will not be the only thing tested. Good luck, and get a good night's rest…you'll need it.

Jiro's mouth hung open in shocked disbelief. There really was a second half to the exam! Finally, a chance to prove himself in the field. The Fates _must_ have some grander destiny in store for him. He looked back into Abelia's eyes; he longed to apologize but, once again, couldn't seem to remember how to speek.

Abelia shook her head, sighed and tore the paper from his hands. "Did you even read _your_ letter?" she asked exasperatingly.

"Of course!" Jiro replied in fake resentment, his voice suddenly alive again. Of course, he had lied, and Abelia knew it. He had read some of the letter; the first paragraph to be precise . He'd stopped when he saw his score, letting the paper slip through his hands and descend to the floor at his feet the night before. That's when he'd made hid decision to head home, but he promised himself he'd traverse the training grounds before leaving.

Abelia responded indignantly, "Jiro! You should always read all your letters entirely! If you don't, you could make a mistake in command, and a mistaken command could lead to the annihilation of your forces." Of course, she was right; and a textbook remark at that. As a matter of fact, Jiro was almost positive the last part of her admonishment was recited verbatim from a book they read.

"So when is this all starting?" Jiro inquired curiously, ignoring Abelia's previous lesson on tactical letter reading.

"General Girardot is already here!" she exclaimed. Jiro's legs unfolded automatically at the foreboding thought of keeping the general waiting. "Brrad and Karll are waiting too!" she continued as if replying to Jiro's thoughts. Jiro's head swiveled like an owl's searching for any sight for his fellow classmates or a fuming general. Abelia pointed over his shoulder and the heels of his boots spun, leaving small trenches in the earth. Sure enough, he saw General Girardot followed by at least twenty cadets from the academy standing in formation at the southern end of the camp. Without hesitation, Jiro broke into a sprint leaving Abelia in a stupor of amazement. Jiro, though maybe not the most intelligent of his class, was easily the quickest and most graceful.

Jiro spotted Brrad and Karll standing at attention beyond their teacher, Girardot, and quickly made his way to join them. Taking a spot next to Karll, Jiro quickly brushed his knees and legs of any dirt they accumulated while he knelt in the grass earlier. He paused though as a pair of metal grieves emerged before him, leaving small tuffs of exploding dust with each step. Slowly, Jiro lifted his head, wincing slightly as every piece of painfully familiar armor came into his escalating view. Straightening his back, the face of a battle hardened general lay atop a metal breastplate across from him. Jiro immediately stood at attention, greasy sweat pouring from his pores, as Girardot continued to stare vehemently into his eyes.

Finally, Abelia arrived, panting from the exhausting dash she made in a fruitless venture to keep pace with Jiro. Girardot's lined face switched to Abelia as she doubled over, hands on her knees, losing her struggle to control her breathing. Jiro turned and smiled at Karll only to receive silent ridicule from the armored fencer. Jiro frowned, ducked his head, and turned it forward again; he'd screwed up. To his left, Abelia had straightened her posture and assumed the position the others held, though, Jiro noticed, her breathing was still heavy and forced. Another bead of sweat formed as an additional wave of guilt swept across him.

"Is everyone here?" General Girardot asked, his eyes flashing in Jiro's direction. Everyone was, of course, present, but he made no effort in hiding his annoyance with Jiro's lack of punctuality. "All right then," he continued, pacing along the small row of students. "I'm going to teach you baby birds what it means to be a commander. Those who command on the battlefield must issue a variety of instructions to their forces." General Girardot turned to the training grounds and opened his arms as if to embrace them. "Today, this is your battlefield, and they are your forces," he completed, gesturing to the armored cadets. "In battle, your lives are on the line. A mistaken command could lead to the annihilation of your forces." Jiro loosed a stifled laugh as he recognized the source of Abelia's reprimand. Girardot glared at Jiro causing his face to tighten with seriousness again.

He continued, "If you all read your letters," he gave a sideways glance to Jiro, "you'll know that the amount of soldiers you will lead for this half of your final exam is based on your score from the written exam. If you scored particularly high," he glanced at Abelia, "then you will receive many troops. Consequently, if you scored particularly low," he glanced at Jiro, "then you will receive few troops." Jiro's gut twisted into a knot causing him to lose a moment's breath. His fellow classmates, who all received high scores, suppressed a bout of laughter. "The untis you lose in battle, however, will be subtracted from you resources in the next battle. However, if you perform beyond expectancy, you will be rewarded with new forces." The knot in Jiro's gut weakened slightly allowing him to breath in relief. Perhaps he stood a chance after all.

"Of course I don't expect you to kill each other; any skirmishes will be conducted through standard sparring practices. The battles themselves will proceed in tournament style. First, Abelia and Brrad will face off, followed by Jiro and Karll. The winners of those matches will face each other tomorrow with whatever forces they have remaining. The winner of _that_ match will proceed to the capital with me for one last test. The losers will head back to the academy for another year of training. Girardot scanned the faces of his students for any signs of tension and was pleased to discover that all four remained calm. His short, snowy beard conformed into a smile guided by the corners of his mouth. "As tactical commanders-in-training, I expect you to lead your companions with trustworthy orders. Just the same, I also expect you to heed their advice as that is the sign of a true commander. You carry the lives of your companions on your shoulders, so no pressure, but…"

_(Yeah, right,)_ Jiro thought.

"But don't take this lightly." He concluded. "Abelia, Brrad, choose your units. The rest of you, clear the field! Begin the final exam!"

**So, how'd you like it? I will be uploading the next chapter soon so hurry back. Oh and if you were wondering just what Jiro looked like…have I got a treat for you! These are the instructions for making Jiro in the Character Creation mode. NOTE: Some categories will be left out because they are empty.**

**Job: Sage**

**Hair: Long Straight 8.25**

**Lower Torso: Undershirt 1.14**

**Mid Torso: Warrior's Robe 1.27**

**Hands: Bandit's Gloves 8.25**

**Neck: Cloak 1.27**

**Waist: Bandit's Belt 8.25**

**Lower Legs: Leggings 1.27**

**Upper Legs: Slacks 1.14**

**Socks: Cloth 1.14**

**Feet: Cloth Boots 1.27**

**Face: 02**

**Eyebrows: 4.04**

**Lips: 2.06**

**Eyes: 26.19**

**Skin: 5.16**

**Underwear: Standard**

**Voice: Young Man 2**


	3. Divide and Conquer

**This next chapter begins the first adventure of the Chronicles of the Sword mode. I hope you enjoy it. I don't own Aeneas but Jiro is all mine.**

**Divide and Conquer**

"This could be a problem…" Jiro and his single unit, Aeneas, stood in awe on the southern end of the training grounds. Together, they watched as Karll mobilized his troops, occupying each stronghold while leaving two at his base for a rear guard and using one, very agile woman, as a body guard. The east wind had again begun to blow causing the many blue flags to flap and whip. The two red flags, stationed at each of his Jiro's strongholds seemed somewhat diminished among the field of blue.

"How can you score so terribly so as to receive only _one_ unit and only _one_ additional stronghold?" Aeneas. A childhood friend of Jiro's. Long ago they practiced together for this very moment as children. Their war games attracted many children who, wielding sticks, would duel in the yards of the village using each house as a military base. Aeneas and Jiro would always side together, though being of less than admirable fighting ability, Jiro deigned to becoming leader of their forces.

As they grew, however, they desired different destinies. Aeneas, idolizing Jiro's brother, Kane, wished to become a knight. While Jiro, who's fighting skills increased very little, yearned to test his strategic prowess against the academy's sharpest tacticians. If he could not match his brother in combat, he would surpass him in the war room.

Now, two long separated allies have been brought together again in a test of abilities that will require them to cooperate more than they ever did as children. Their respect for each other's capabilities will be put to the test.

"Are you stupid or something?" Aeneas inquired deliberately.

"Hey, you remember when we were kids right?" Jiro responded. "We always kicked butt together."

"No, _I_ kicked butt. _You_ stayed back and told me what to do," the cadet corrected. "Besides, you outsmarted a bunch of crybabies. This guy is from a family of nobles that hired experts that taught him about combat for his entire upbringing," he complained, gesturing towards Karll's main camp.

"That's a poor comparison," Jiro answered without returning Aenea's gaze.

"Why?" he inquired incredulously.

"Because you're comparing intelligence to skill; two completely different attributes," Jiro explained, finally turning to look his old friend in the eye.

"He still outnumbers us more than three to one," Aeneas countered. "Not to mention he controls twice as many strongholds as we do. If he swarms us it's over!" Jiro shook his head, a faint smile contorting his lips. Aeneas raised an eyebrow in confusion. "No?"

Jiro placed his hand over the back of Aenea's head, wincing at the cool gel he used to keep his hair slick. "He has a single soldier at each tower yet he doesn't rush ours which is unfortified _and _unguarded," Jiro began, guiding Aeneas's head while he spoke, the way a puppet master controls his puppet. "Yet he refrains from rushing our weak points," Jiro concluded.

"Why?" Aeneas asked again.

"Because," Jiro started, releasing his hold of his comrade's head, "he wishes to put us through a gauntlet. He plans on diminishing our energy in order to finish us off while we're fatigued with his rear guard." As Jiro finished, he clapped Aeneas in the back in order to wipe the gelatinous residue off his hand.

"So hw do we counter that?" Aeneas inquired, impressed with his commander's intuition.

"We don't," Jiro replied simply. Aeneas stared at him critically. Of course there must be some way to counter such a simple plan. Was Jiro an incapable leader after all? "However," Jiro continued, "it will make it easier on us to divide and conquer." Jiro pointed along the dirt road that led to their only other stronghold to the west, near the bank of the reservoir. "You head up the west path to our tower and stop for a breather." Aware that Aeneas was glaring at him for insisting that the short trek would tire him so easily he knocked on the cadet's armor and added, "You'll probably need it by then."

Aeneas broke eye contact swiftly, resent for the comment welling inside him. "And what shall I do after my _breather_?" he queried stiffly, laying particular emphasis on his last word.

Jiro answered without acknowledging his partner's bitterness. "Then head for the center stronghold. Meanwhile I'll travel north on the eastern road and capture the tower on that end. Once I do, I'll meet you at the center. When the center tower's been eliminated you capture the western tower while I head back to the eastern one. When Delthan reaches its point above your tower, we'll strike out against Karll's rear guard. We'll have to decimate his front line within a couple hours in order for us to rest up before Delthan signals our attack."

"But," Aeneas interjected, "wouldn't it be easier for us to just skip the center tower to save our energy? There's a bridge to the west over the end of the reservoir; I can just attack the western tower from there."

"I considered that," Jiro assured. "However, I believe Karll has as well. I believe if we were to leave his center infantry alone, it could surround us when we assault his headquarters…best to eliminate it from the start."

Aeneas wasn't sure he agreed but the duty of a knight isn't to strategize; it was to follow the strategy and, whenever necessary, protect the strategist. "Well, you're the brains," he admitted, hoisting his heavy lance in anticipation.

"And you're the brawn," Jiro added as he drew his sword, the Heisheng Jian, from its scabbard. "Let's do this!"

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They proceeded with Jiro's plan of annihilating Karll's front line immediately. As directed, Aeneas traversed the western trail, though his progress was encumbered due to the weight of his armor paired with the ferocious sun. Delthan assailed him with wave after wave of violent heat. Sweat began to form from every pore of his body; each step taken freeing countless drops of excreted salt only to have them evaporate instantaneously when striking the scorching dirt below. Already Aeneas desired cool refreshment. His mind wandered back to when he and Jiro would strip and bath in the cool pools of irrigation in their home village. He wouldn't succumb to this intangible foe, however, ordering himself to advance in spite of Jiro's insistence of rest previously. Already half way to the tower, Aeneas's only thoughts were of disproving Jiro's annoyingly accurate prediction.

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Meanwhile, Jiro had already reached the eastern tower as his speed greatly outclassed that of his sluggish companion. Something seemed awry though. Every window of every floor of the wooden edifice was boarded shut; a very peculiar practice for such sweltering weather. Jiro scanned the face of the wall for any inkling of deception. Yet, he couldn't discover anything more abnormal than the shut windows. Aside from them, it contained all the typical fortifications of a standard tower stronghold: unscaleable walls to prevent overhead infiltration, scaffolding near the top to support archers, and large double wooden doors that could be, and almost certainly were, barred from the inside. Above, Karll's blue flag fluttered in the gentle breeze. In order to take the stronghold, Jiro would have to replace its flag with a red one that should be stored on the roof.

Movement. There was someone located on the roof. _So that's his ploy!_ Jiro realized. _He expects me to hurry to the top so he boarded up the windows to allow the heat to tire me. Thus, leaving me as easy pickings for the guard at the top._ Jiro stepped forward and pressed gingerly on the left door finding little resistance beyond the sheer weight of the wood itself.

"Just as I thought," Jiro mused to himself. "He wants me to enter. Well, far be it from me to refuse an invitation." Jiro confidently strolled into the tower, immediately encountering a blast of the extreme heat. Perspiration rapidly accumulated on nearly the entire surface of his skin.

To avoid heat stroke, Jiro quickly removed his black robe and cloak and gulped water from his water skin which he had filled previously in prognostication of his long journey home. He surveyed his surroundings only to find that the inside was quite bare. Aside from an old table and two dust covered chairs, indicating their long period of disuse, there were virtually no furnishings. Jiro presumed this was due to the high improbability of a prolonged siege in an academy's training grounds.

Still, something was anomalous. An unpleasant odor seemed to be emanating fro the higher floors. Jiro began to climb the only ladder, slowly though, so as not to diminish his strength more than necessary. Upon reaching the next floor, Jiro noticed the dramatic increase in the aroma's potency. He didn't have to search long before he discovered the source; small brown mushrooms littered the floor and shelves. The young tactician crouched and plucked a sample off the creaking floor to examine it in an endeavor to determine its origin.

_Oh damn…_ Jiro's eyes widened as he now understood why Karll ordered the sealing of the windows; the funguses that coated the second story were Kaiser Mushrooms. These mushrooms flourished in hot climates and produced near invisible spores that can sap the energy of those unfortunate enough to inhale them. With the windows shut, the tower was the perfect incubator for them. Augmenting the heat was the lack of wind; it was impossible for the spores to be carried out.

Jiro dropped the fungus and jutted upright. For a moment, he could only stand in amazement at Karll's ingenious plan. He had to get the windows open…fast!

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Aeneas had finally arrived at the stronghold. Without slowing pace, he trampled through the door which gave under the influence of his armor suit. After staggering a few steps beyond the threshold, the exhausted cadet tumbled to the floor. As he lay there, panting and gasping for air, Aeneas realized Jiro had been correct. The armor, coupled with the battering sun, not only impeded his movement, it also depleted his strength.

_At this rate, _he observed, _Karll's plan will succeed without a hitch._ After lying in the dirt for a short time, Aeneas pulled himself up and wiped the perspiration from his brow with a shaking hand. Quickly, Aeneas removed his gauntlets, revealing beet red hands covered in sweat. Aeneas's knowledge of strongholds was extensive as he had been trained to defend many types from various styles of attacks. Most forts, he knew, located near bodies of clean water often contained some device that drew from them.

Still breathing heavily, Aeneas sought some form of refreshment for his hands and throat. Just as he expected, he found a metal pump protruding from the floor boards. Every limb in his body moaned with fatigue as he dragged himself to the corner that housed the device. In his wake, the dust that long coated the aged wood was replaced by deep scores gouged by the grieves protecting Aeneas's shins and feet.

Ambitious relief rushed Aeneas as he reached the pump. Using it to steady himself, he brought his convulsing body to its knees and worked the pump's handle. He found it quite easy to work as his the excessive sweat pasted his hands to the devices handle. Following about ten successive pumps, a small amount of water exploded from the nozzle. Removing his right hand from the pump, a layer of skin remaining behind, Aeneas attempted to maneuver his already soaked cranium under the nozzle. However, due to his metallic shoulder guards, a lack of flexibility restrained him from pumping the water at the same time. Quickly, he removed them, as well as his breastplate and tasset, and resumed his position under the faucet. With another pump, cool water splattered his head and shoulders causing him to grin with a sense of alleviation.

After soaking his hands and drinking his fill from the reservoir's sweet nectar, Aeneas sprawled himself on the floor just inches away from the newly birthed mud around the pump. Lying in the cool shadows of the musty tower appealed to him, and he strongly considered abandoning this absurd exercise in favor of his previous scheme of bathing in the reservoir not twenty yards away. The Fates knew he could use it…the smell of intense perspiration lingered among the dust that constantly fluttered down, shaken loose by the wind, from the rafters above. Aeneas examined the stains around his chest and armpits, astounded at the amount of dehydration he suffered from the trek there; the stains reached almost as far as his tasset.

Aeneas closed his eyes, unable to fight the fatigue within any longer. Though he remained unconscious for a few minutes, many fragments of subconscious deliberation raced through his mind. _This is a foolhardy excursion, we were destined to lose. A knight never abandon's his commander. I am no knight, only a cadet. I aspire to become a true knight. A fool's dream. Is Kane a fool? No, Kane is strong. Am I weak? NO! I am just not strong enough. I am weak. Jiro is strong. Jiro is weak. Even now he fights. He is a fool. I am a fool. So I will give up? Yes. Why? Because I wish it. What about Kane? What _about_ Kane? Don't I want to be like him? Yes. Would Kane give up?_

"No." Aeneas's eyes snapped open, his mental perseverance clashing with his resisting body. "Kane would not give up." Forcing himself to his feet, Aeneas returned to the pump and allowed himself one last drink from the enticing reservoir. Afterwards, he hefted his lance over his shoulder and gave one final skeptical look at his armor before leaving it in the dust as he exited the tower en route to Karll's center stronghold.

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Jiro knelt by the wall breathing deeply from the wind that now flowed freely through the tower. He had finally managed to open every window, though the venture left him with little strength left; the spores had done their job well. Another gust flew through the window, cooling the sweat that plastered his hair to his skull. Just above him he could hear the footsteps of his opponent pacing the roof, but he couldn't bring himself to fight against his weary muscles. For a time, he just knelt there, admiring the rolling grass just outside the tower three floors below him. He had no doubt the wind had taken most of the spores away by now, though it was foolish to believe his energy would replenish immediately.

Letting loose a yawn, Jiro felt a genuine wave of exhaustion crash over his mind as well as his body. He considered closing his eyes for just a few minutes but quickly dismissed the idea. If he fell asleep, he would be at the mercy of the guard stationed above. He hated the fact, but, he had to finish his mission. How would Aeneas react if, while he was marching in this heat, his commander was sitting in an enemy tower, enjoying a breeze from an open window? Jiro knew the answer before his mind even worked out the question…_Aeneas would flip._

Struggling against his protesting muscles, Jiro pushed himself to his feet using the window sill as a guide. While fully erect, he stood there, his hands still on the sill expecting, or rather hoping, his knees would buckle forcing him to rest just a bit longer till his strength recovered. However, he apparently had strength enough left as his knees wavered half an inch before positioning themselves directly under his legs.

Sighing with exasperation, Jiro drove himself toward the wooden ladder leading to the trap door in the roof. Jiro clasped the oak rungs with weary hands and slowly ascended toward the ominous nest above where the vulture anticipated easy prey.

His pace slowed, as the climb began draining what energy remained in the nearly empty shell that was once his body. As he neared the top, Jiro ducked his head so that his shoulders would be the first to contact the trap door. When they did, Jiro stepped up one last rung and bent over, forcing his upper back to lay flat against it along with his shoulders. The footsteps of his opponent now thundered 5 inches above his head, the previously inaudible sound of metal contacting wood suggesting he wore armor.

As soon as Jiro heard the footsteps step ahead of the door, he took one last step up and shoved his shoulders and back through the ceiling. Catching the guard unawares, he only had time to spin around before Jiro grabbed his feet and pulled them out from under him. The man plummeted so Jiro siezed the opportunity to pull his legs and torso through the opening and fully onto the roof. Just as the man stood, Jiro drew his Heisheng Jian, waiting sportingly for his opponent to ready his weapons before attacking.

However, he never received the chance as his opponent lunged at him with a shorter sword. Jiro spun in place as his opponent to avoid his charging opponent's blade which cut nothing but the air around him. Nearing the end of his twirl, Jiro struck out with his own sword only to have the attack guarded by a small shield attached to his adversary's right wrist. While sidestepping to avoid a counter attack, Jiro grabbed his opponent's arm and used the charge's momentum to flip his enemy over his shoulder. The man landed before, the flag pole, the heavy impact causing a few floor boards underneath to snap. Though he was down, sparring conventions of the Grandall Empire dictated that, as long as he had his weapon, he wasn't yet defeated. To remedy this, Jiro bore his heel into the left wrist of his foe, causing him to scream in surprised pain as he released his grasp on his sword. Using his own weapon, Jiro maneuvered the cadet's through the opening in the floor, a contact sound echoing a few floors below. "You lose," Jiro informed him, careful to maintain an air of vitality.

Sheathing his sword, Jiro made his way to the flag pole which, as he expected, had a red flag sitting at its base. Jiro promptly switched the flags symbolizing the capturing of the stronghold. Time seemed to be with him as Delthan looked as if it wouldn't reach the western tower for over an hour.

Jiro removed a small spyglass from the red pouch attached to his belt and unfolded it. The copper tubing reflected the sun's light as Jiro positioned the lens before his eye, peering in the direction of the centermost tower. Just as Jiro surmised from his experiences with his new stronghold, the center tower also had its windows boarded shut. Though, different from this one, no guard patrolled the roof.

Groaning, Jiro's recent assailant sat himself up and propped himself against the low wall surrounding the roof's edge. As he removed his helmet, Jiro turned his attention toward him and noticed a pained expression encompassing his face. His suspicions were confirmed as the man began to examine the wrist Jiro had disarmed moments ago.

Replacing the spyglass into his pouch, Jiro drew his sword once more and cut a piece of the blue flag despite the complaints of the man. Placing the cloth in his bag as well, Jiro apologized to the man, bade him farewell, and descended through the tower.

Upon reaching the bottom floor, Jiro opened the doors facing the north and, leaving his robe and cloak behind for now, started for his and Aeneas's meeting place. He only hoped Aeneas hadn't entered it yet as he predicted a similar trap awaited them.

**Well, how'd you like it? Jiro's first victory in a field of battle, yet only fear greets him for comming events... Well whatever! Please review if you have any of the three c's: comments, curiosities, or criticism. Flames are accepted but often ignored, if you have any constructive criticism I will gladly adapt it assuming I agree. Thank you all. Next chapter should be up soon!**


	4. Delthan's Signal

**Sorry it took so long to post my third chapter…been distracted lately. Anyway, I'd like to say thank you to my reviewer's encouragement so far and for Gundam Nightshade for adding me to his C2. This is the second of my stories that's been added to a C2 and I'd just like to ask…what is a C2? Could someone please explain this to me? If it's something good then I'm honored to have my story involved but if it's something bad…I'll wait till I find out. Don't want to say something I'll regret. Oh, and yes, Phoenix Lord, I will explain where his save everyone attitude comes from. Well, thank you for reviewing and waiting. Here's chapter 4, Delthan's Signal.**

**Delthan's Signal**

"What's wrong with me?" Aeneas asked in desperation. Since he'd entered the tower, a plague of exhaustion preyed upon his mind and body, subduing him to one of Karll's minions that now stood before him. Clasped in each crossed hand were long blades that curved with his arms, their tips just inches from his own shoulders. To Aeneas's fading vision they seemed as bladed wings.

"You like them"? Aeneas's assailant mocked. His voice was slightly muffled due to a handkerchief tied around his face to cover his mouth and nose. "The spores I mean? They're Kaiser Mushroom spores. Inhaling them causes you to lose strength. The disorientation I'm sure you're feeling is a mere side effect." The masked man lifted one of his oddly shaped weapons, mimicking a fatal strike. "This, of course, makes it all the easier to finish you."

Aeneas's shuffled backward, abandoning his heavy lance as the mushrooms effect continued to assault his energy reserves. He rejected the idea of standing for it was his loss of equilibrium that deposited him in his current forlorn position. His opponent continued to cackle as he slowly stalked his crawling prey, obviously taking great pleasure in his sadistic hunt. Panicked sweat dripped from Aeneas's face, realizing his folly of tactlessly charging through the door. As he reached the wall, the man made to strike him down but paused as he noticed a slim sword rested on his shoulder.

"You're dead my friend." Jiro appeared behind him wearing the blue flag piece over his face in imitation of the guard's handkerchief. The vicious soldier lowered his head with a comprehending grunt. Before sheathing his sword, Jiro yanked the handkerchief off his now defeated opponent's face. With great haste, he dropped his weapons and used his now empty hands to replace the mask. Giving his discarded blades no second thought, he dashed out the western door that Aeneas recklessly demolished as he entered.

Jiro sheathed his sword and forced his comrade up, offering his body to lean on. Aeneas proved to be heavier than Jiro had expected, but he calmly guided his charge through the doors and out into the fresh, untainted, air. As soon as they emerged under Delthan's punishing rays, Jiro slid his friend to the dirt and, relieved of his load, plopped backward onto the path beside him.

Aeneas's body convulsed in short bursts as his sapped energy slowly returned to his muscles. He could feel Jiro staring at him, most likely with irritation. He couldn't blame him though; he acknowledged the fact that he made a neophyte's mistake. Caution was necessary when entering enemy territory. Slowly, his ragged breath normalized, and his spasms also abated, allowing him to push his face out of the dry earth. As his lungs remembered the taste of clean air, his hyperventilation stopped completely. His hands still trembled and fatigue continued to blur his vision, but he regained control of his muscles and pushed himself over so he faced the sky above.

Jiro lowered the blue cloth covering the lower half of his face and poured water over it to wash it of any spores that may have adhered to it. When he finished, he repeated the rinse with the handkerchief he took from Karll's soldier. He then rung them both out at the same time and started to take a sip from the skin when he noticed Aeneas eyeing it. At first, Jiro was unsure why he was staring at him. Then a surge of stupidity filled Jiro as he finally understood Aeneas's gaze. Jiro smiled, nodded, and handed the water skin to his obviously parched partner. He then, went behind Aeneas and lifted his head up only to have Aeneas shoot up into a sitting position. This caused a new flood of exhaustion so it took him a few minutes to finally drink from the water skin. After almost completely depleting its contents, he handed it back to Jiro and failed an attempt to stand.

Jiro, just now realizing it was missing, asked, "Where's your armor? Not that I'm complaining, I mean I never would have gotten you out with it but…what happened to it?"

Aeneas took a few more breaths before answering in an effort to stall as he formulated a decent answer. Finally he said, "I left it behind." Jiro raised an eyebrow to the short motiveless answer and began to question him further but deemed it pointless so he switched the topic.

"You okay?" he asked with genuine concern. Based on his earlier encounter with, he assumed, Kaiser Mushrooms, he wasn't sure Aeneas would be able to continue for a little while. This thought haunted him. If this was true, his plan might not come to fruition, and he would be left to attack Karll's rear guard alone; he wouldn't bet on his chances of succeeding alone.

"Swell," Aeneas breathed with a chuckle. "I always hated mushrooms." Jiro couldn't help but laugh at this preposterous battlefield conversation. "The thought of eating something that eats dead things just never quite appealed to me." It seemed to Jiro that he might have underestimated his friend's stamina. If he had the energy for such random topics in the heat of battle, he could most certainly achieve victory within, he judged, forty minutes. Perhaps he was over dramatizing the situation, but he was quite desperate at the moment and Delthan wasn't dawdling.

Jiro noticed something else missing from Aeneas's equipment and he only hoped he hadn't left that behind as well. He asked slowly, perturbed by the missing weapon, "And…your lance is…where?"

Aeneas raised his head and peered back into the sullen darkness of the tower. "I dropped it inside." His cranium vanished between his arms as the shame of dropping his weapon berated him expected criticisms. It wasn't his only weapon, but the knife belted to his pant's leg wasn't crafted for combat; its primary uses were hunting and flaying the meat.

Jiro smiled wearily, relief warming his body more than Delthan could. He patted his comrade on the shoulder and assured him that he would collect the long weapon when he returned. The youthful tactician handed his friend the damp cloth he tore from the enemy soldier inside the stronghold and retied the flag piece around his head before he disappeared in the looming darkness.

Aeneas sat there in the dirt for a while simply staring at the handkerchief as many more thought fragments dashed through his mind again. These made more sense to him however, many of which arguing the fact that knights were trained to protect their commanders. What events just occurred proved to Aeneas that he was apparently unable to accomplish such a task. Their roles as commander and knight had been completely switched. Jiro had come to his rescue when it should have been quite the reverse. No. Even insisting that they switched positions was a fallacy in its own respects. Aeneas had given no orders therefore becoming unfit for the title commander. In reality, Jiro had stolen his responsibility while keeping his own in unison, leaving Aeneas to feel like some incompetent civilian or peon.

Anger surged through Aeneas: rage at the thought of his training going to waste as he would surely fall back into society as a worthless noncombatant, fury at Jiro for robbing him of his position and status, and an uncontrollable wrath at the absurdity of his own thoughts. All this he saw in the wet cloth he now crushed in his hands.

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Jiro had finally reached the roof and succeeded in switching the flags which determined who held its domination. He then pulled the spyglass from his pouch once again and guided its lens toward the final tower they had to capture. Well, technically, they didn't need it at all. However, Jiro thought it to be a strategic stronghold. In all honesty, he and Aeneas could just as easily return to the eastern stronghold and attack Karll's northern headquarters from there. He however, wanted to split Karll's attention by attacking from two separate directions. Besides, if they were to ignore the tower to the west, the guard there could return to Karll's base of operations and act as reinforcements.

Though his exhaustion requested the easier, albeit potentially destructive plan, his rational pushed him to return to the bottom of the tower so the siege of the final tower could begin. As he reached the bottom of the final ladder, Jiro eyed the strange blades Aeneas's ambusher had been using. He had never seen weapons such as these before and he intended to question Girardot about their origins once the mock battle was over. Next he headed to the spot he knew Aeneas's lance laid. However, when he looked down, he realized that the lance had been removed.

Confused, Jiro studied the ground where the lance should have been. He noticed some skid marks in the dirt floor that he assumed were created as Aeneas dragged himself to the wall he had found him leaning against when he neutralized the man with the curved blades. Scrutinizing further, he discovered a light set of broad footprints heading from the outside toward that location. Directly next to them was another set of the same footprints though, these were heavier set, leading from the spot Jiro now kneeled back out into the blinding light of the sun.

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Aeneas tossed the broken body of his opponent aside as he doubled over, his fatigue threatening to engulf him in a forced sleep. Small trickles of blood ran down Aeneas's left shoulder in the formation of a leaf's veins, and his body ached from the sweltering climb up through the body of the tower. His wounds were minor however, when compared to those he inflicted on his opponent. Ragged breaths sounded from behind him that were immediately muted by the unconcerned wind. Though his respiration was labored, the man lived to suffer through the agony of his shattered limbs and ribs. The remains of his squared sword lay next to him, as well as some of the four pointed shuriken he used to barrage the knight.

The foolishness of leaving his armor augmented Aeneas's growing list of frustrations. If he had recovered it, the cowardly soldier's weapons would never have pierced his skin as it would have bounced clear off his shoulder armor. Aeneas inhaled heavily as he stood, contemplating a self mental suggestion of returning for his armor. As he raised a red flag though, he decided it would be foolish as the sun looked to be only twenty minutes away from Jiro's desired location above the tower. By the time he reached the southern tower, outfitted himself in his metallic attire, and returned to his current stronghold, he would only afford himself a few minutes recovery before the planned assault.

The young knight cursed meaninglessly and lifted the handkerchief over his face once again. Leaving the crippled warrior on the roof, he slowly sank into the heated darkness once again.

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Jiro returned to the eastern stronghold in anticipation of the coming attack. As it stood now, he had about ten minutes before Delthan would rise above the western tower. For this time, Jiro planned to rest and recover his strength and energy. He was worried that Aeneas had hastily continued his objective of capturing the tower, but he was sure he wouldn't have done so if he believed he couldn't handle the strain. Apparently, Jiro had greatly underestimated his friend's recovery abilities.

For now, he was content to resting under the creeping shadows of the tower. Slowly he surveyed the scenic landscape of the plains. The large field of grass rolled softly in the eastern breeze giving way only to slender trees that were few and far between.

Aside from the trees and towers, the only objects much taller than the grass itself were marble pillars scattered in dotted clumps across the plains. These ruins reminisced of an old arena that once encompassed much of these planes in which the old Malleta Empire once ruled.

Now however, due to smaller rebellions within the ancient domain of Malleta, the once mighty continent wide empire has been reduced to a small insignificant territory inferior to the three kingdoms that now reigned. These three kingdoms were named after the leaders of the rebels that destroyed the empire from the inside out: Mighty Jordan Grandall led the rebellion and founded the empire, in which Jiro now dreamed to serve, Wise Cuthbert Dalkia, who undermined the Malleta army with legendary strategies still taught throughout the continent created the modern Dalkia Kingdom, and Minerva Halteese, the ancient emperor's own sister in law, supplied the rebels with money and equipment thus assuring her own territory now known as the Halteese republic.

These history lessons always bored Jiro in the past. However, he now finds them enlightening, as he has mastered some of the most complicated strategies of the long dead Dalkia, with this knowledge.

The time passed by slowly; the anxiety Jiro felt seemed to hold some spiritual reins on the sun. Finally, Delthan reached its mark atop the tower to the west, signaling the beginning of Jiro's timed assault on Karll and his minions. Giving one final glance at the old pillars, Jiro silently prayed to the fates that they weren't some omen of what could possibly occur in the near future. His prayer complete, he sprinted up the path toward Karll's keep, new energy coursing through his veins to the muscles in his legs.

**Well, that's that. The final assault has finally begun. I'm a little dismayed by the fact that just one chronicle will take 3 chapters to complete. I hope each future one will be shorter…not likely but… Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. Trust me, the next chapter, the conclusion of the first battle, will contain much more action, especially in the last scene. Sometime within the next couple of chapters the darkness in Aeneas's heart will also be discussed as well as a brief glimpse into Jiro's past that has caused him to discover his dream of becoming a tactician. Should be interesting… Thank you for reading and please review with any comments, criticisms, or concerns. Arrivederci!**


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